


And I love him, I love him.

by eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar



Category: Devil May Cry 4
Genre: M/M, They're Mates, also a sap, dante is really really gay, i literally wrote this at one am on my fucking phone, wow this is so gay i cant even believe this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante really hates motels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I love him, I love him.

     Dante really doesn't like sleeping in motels. They're grimy, the cable is shitty, the air is stale, and the wallpaper is tacky. He can smell the fucking chlorine from their stagnant pools from three miles down, and it’s beginning to really, really grate on his last goddamn nerve.

     More importantly, Nero isn't there.

     He's back at Devil May Cry, and Dante's already starting to miss him. His stomach is in knots and he can tell Nero's is, too. He's already having trouble pushing the thoughts of his mate out of his head, and Dante can tell that this little trip is gonna be the biggest pain in the fuckin' ass without Nero by his side. Everything is generally worse without that little shit by his side.

     But god, Dante misses Nero. He tosses his dufflebag at the foot of the bed, throws himself down on the mattress like a bear settling down for winter. It wasn't even late, really-- Nine twenty-six, and he was already missing Nero. Yikes.

     "Fuck," Dante sighs, folding his arms up under his head, staring at the lightly-yellowed and heavily chipped ceiling of his room.

     Before he knows it, he's spacing off. Where do his thoughts wander? Why, Nero, of course. Nero's icy eyes staring into his unabashedly, Nero's thumbs tracing his collarbones, Nero's skin on his. Dante thinks of Nero's lips on his own, their bodies pressed together in some fit of raw passion and love, desire present but not overbearing. He thinks of the way Nero folds like a house of cards when Dante begins to suck marks into that long neck, thinks of the way he whines for just a little more.

     And then he thinks of Nero's voice.

     Dante thinks of his laugh, his smile. The whispers, screams, moans, yelps, cries and sighs of his name. He thinks of a hand holding his, a body next to his own, whispers starting him from his daydream--

    _Come to bed, Dante._

     Ah, those four words. Nero only utters them from the top stairwell at four AM when the sun begins to rise and Dante still hasn't slept.

     Speaking of sleep, if these thoughts persist, Dante won't be getting a lick.

     But he's gotta hear that voice. Nero's voice.

     So in three quick movements, the bedside landline is in the hunter's hand as he's propped up against the headboard, dialing Devil May Cry's number.

     One ring.

     Two.

     Three.

_C'mon, kid, you're not out cold yet, are you?_

__

     Four.

     "Devil May Cry, Dante's n--"

     "It's me, kiddo." Dante breathes more desperately than he intends, and he hears a sharp inhale on the other end. His voice is perfect, it's music, it's so wonderfully indescribable and Dante has missed it so much, it's been maybe six hours at most but god--

     "Thank god you called." comes a quiet response, and Dante smiles faintly. There's a pause, and Nero continues, "I can't sleep."

      Dante sighs through his nose.

 

      _Of course you can't sleep, we're not near._

     "Okay," Dante mumbles, "Go lay down. I got a story for you to pass out to." There's light shuffling, and Dante knows what Nero's up to. "Kid," he warns, "that better not be the couch I hear you settling down on. We have a bed for a reason."

_But it smells like us_ , he thinks, _it probably makes him upset._

__

     "Screw you, I like this couch." Nero murmurs into the receiver, and Dante chuckles. Little brat.

 

     So the elder begins spinning his yarn. The story Nero hears is by no means true, but Dante knows it should do the job of lulling the younger to sleep.

     It does.

     It's thirty minutes in, and Nero's breathing is even and soft. The knots and tension in Dante's stomach and chest have subsided, and he can think a little more clearly.

     "Goodnight, kiddo," Dante mumbles, "I love ya. I'll be home soon, yeah? Promise."

 

     And Dante doesn't break his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> wow dante that's kinda gay


End file.
